Herbalists' Cache fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl

He did not turn down her offer, as she suspected. Olive was certainly pleased and grateful for any chance to practice medicine, now that most of her mothers had birthed and their families were healthy. He might not be a caregiver, but she was, and it ran through her blood hot and fast. She loved her gardening, but plants without a purpose were just beautiful. Nursing gave them this applied purpose. “Is it something you desire?” the druid asked of him as she began to survey their surroundings once more. Some people did not care for the task, which is why they outsourced.

Since the woman had just been doing this exact duty just moments before, she had a pretty good grasp on what was around them. Still, she heel-toed her front paws so that she looked to the right, then the left, then back at Derg. “Your friend is in luck,” she announced. “It is a wonderful time of years to harvest herbs.” It was true, though nothing was in full bloom, but it did not sound like this was a dire situation that was needing a lot of medicine to handle.

 “What are their symptoms?”